


Eye of the Tiger

by Crollalanza



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: AU, Ballet, Kickboxing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-23
Updated: 2015-11-23
Packaged: 2018-05-03 01:17:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5271137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crollalanza/pseuds/Crollalanza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was the third time loud music from the kickboxing studio had disturbed Daichi's ballet class.</p><p>The third time.</p><p>But, as he stormed down the corridor to confront the instructor, he vowed it would be the last!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eye of the Tiger

**Author's Note:**

> An anon sent me this prompt:  
> Daisuga where "My ballet studio is right next to your kickboxing studio and your music is very loud and interfering with lessons and I’m annoyed and - oh no you’re hot" Kinda thing?  
> So here it is. :D
> 
> (It's kind of daft, but enjoy, my petals)

**_‘Rising up, back on the street,  
Did my time, took my chances.’_ **

Daichi closed his eyes, muffling the ‘fuck’ he was desperate to shout but couldn’t because of the company. Instead, he turned his grimace into a tight smile.

“Shimizu-san’s just going to take over for a while, class,” he called. “Practise your entrechat until then, okay?”

“I thought we were going to learn fouetté this week, Sawamura-sensei,” complained Shouyou-chan, a rather clumsy child with red hair, whose mum had dragged him screaming through the door a month ago, but now ran inside earlier than anyone else.

“When I get back,” Daichi replied, “but there’s a specific piece of music I want to play and –”

**_‘So many times it happens too fast  
You trade your passion for glory.’_ **

“We won’t be able to listen properly with that playing, will we?” he explained to Shouyou.  “Won’t be long.”

He gritted his teeth, turning away from Shouyou and his classmates, and headed out of his studio.

It was the third time that week that his class had been disturbed by the new kickboxing class. He’d tried complaining to the owners of the gym where they rented the studio, but had been informed there was nothing they could do and it was better Daichi himself tackled the nuisance. (Personally Daichi thought the owners found it hilarious, eyeing him – a male ballet teacher- as something of an anomaly and a joke, so they weren’t going to put themselves out). So Daichi, after the second incident, had strode along to the room next door and attempted to reason with whoever was running a kickboxing class, only to find the class finished and the room locked up. He’d left a note, sliding it under the door, asking if they could possibly turn the music down.

And not received a reply.

Today the music was louder, the beat thumping through the walls and as he strode up the corridor to confront the instructor, Daichi was annoyed his pace seemed to fall into the rhythm of the song.

**_‘It's the eye of the tiger  
It's the thrill of the fight’_ **

“I’ll give him a fricking fight!”

**_‘Rising up to the challenge of our rival.  
And the last known survivor’_ **

“OY!”  Daichi barged into the studio, but such was the volume of the song, no one noticed him, so he stormed across to the music player and switched it off. He took in the scene, noticing not adult men and women kicking out at each other, but several small children, wearing head guards and boxing gloves, kicking big punchbags suspended from the ceiling.

“Who’s the owner here?” Daichi bellowed.

A child flinched, a small girl with blonde hair and a worried expression in her eyes. Daichi smiled, but that seemed to terrify her even more and she hid behind a taller freckled boy, no less trembling than she was.

“That would be me,” said a voice from the corner. “Don’t worry, Yacchan, you’re not in any trouble.”

And looking across, Daichi saw a fair haired man, currently on his knees as he tied the laces of one of his pupils.

Taking in the baleful stares of approximately six children, Daichi swallowed, deciding he’d have to tackle this a different way.

“Then,” he said, in a more conciliatory tone, “Might I have a word?”

The man got to his feet, walking towards Daichi. No longer obscured by half a dozen children and punchbags, Daichi took him in. He was a little shorter than he was, leaner too, but with muscles honed by an obvious dedication to his sport. He touched the small girl on her head, whispering to her until she nodded and started to punch the bag again.

“Which word would you like?” the man asked as he approached.

And then he smiled, obviously pleased with his joke. And Daichi should have wanted to hit him for the mockery. Except he didn’t because the smile that had not left the stranger’s face was possibly the most beautiful he’d even seen, not mocking at all, but genuine and wide.

“Excuse the joke, my friends tell me I’m not at all funny, but at times I don’t engage my brain. I’m Sugawara Koushi,” he said, giving a little bow. “How can I help?”

Under the studio lights, his hair glimmered, and as he got closer, Daichi saw it wasn’t just light hair, but platinum blond, a colour he’d always thought of as cold, but was as bright and warm as this man’s smile.  

“Your music is ... uh ... a bit loud,” he muttered. His palms were sweating so he ran them down his shorts, and then thinking better of offering a handshake, he bowed instead. “I’m Sawamura Daichi, I run the ballet class next door.”

“Mmm.” Sugawara nodded, and his eyes travelled up and down Daichi’s body.  “I’ve seen you around.”

There was a silence and Daichi knew he should have expanded, but up this close, he could see the beads of sweat on Sugawara’s arms, making his muscles glisten. And OH MY GOD was that a mole under his eye?

“Uh... could you ... uh ... no, no, it doesn’t m-matter,” he stammered and then swallowed. “Did you get my note? I slid it under the door.”

“Oh... was that from you?  I’m sorry, but it was raining on Wednesday, so at least seven pairs of muddy shoes trampled over it.”

“Ah... okay.” He breathed a little easier, absurdly pleased that Sugawara hadn’t been ignoring him.

“So you’d like me to turn the music down, would you?”

“Yesh, um, yes, please, if you could.”

“Certainly!” Sugawara replied and grinned even wider. “I like to play it when they’re flagging. It gets the blood pumping, don’t you think?”

Uh... yeah, maybe that was it. The music - that’s why his heart was thumping so hard he thought it would burst through his chest.

“Eye of the Tiger, right?” he said, not entirely sure why he was continuing the conversation, especially as his voice seemed to squeak out the words.

“That’s the one.” Sugawara lowered his voice, leaning into Daichi. “It helps their confidence as well, I find, but ... um ... sorry if it’s disturbed your class. I won’t play it again.”

His eyes flickered over Sugawara’s shoulder. The pupils had resumed their practise, but were lacklustre. The freckle-faced boy eyeing him reproachfully.

“Um, no ... no ... you should play it.”

“But don’t you need to play music, too?”

“Yes, that’s true.” He chewed on his lip, not wanting to disrupt this class, but knowing he had to provide the best for his pupils, too, and hearing the music was essential.

“Then ... um ... we need some sort of schedule,” Sugawara decided, his eyes sparkling.  And then he gave the smallest of winks. “How about we discuss over coffee?”

“Yeah ... yeah.” Daichi held out his hand, and smiled back. “Why not? And, uh, for now, why don’t you finish the song, and I’ll put mine on when you’re done? My kids can practise their jetés to this. ”

“Great!” Sugawara twisted back to the music player. “And maybe my kids can punch to Swan Lake, or whatever you’re playing.”

“Uh... One Republic , actually,” Daichi said, giving Sugawara a lopsided grin. “Love Runs Out.”

“Oh ...” Sugawara laughed softly. “I do hope it doesn’t.”

“Huh?”

“Run out, I mean,” he replied, just as he pressed play.

**_‘Stalks his prey in the night  
And he's watching us all with the eye of the tiger.’_ **

_Yes,_ Daichi thought, breaking into a spontaneous stream of pirouettes down the corridor on the way back to his classroom _, it must be the song making my pulse race._


End file.
